


Safe in Each Other's Arms

by voiddreams



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Mindless Fluff, Rain, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:42:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29808573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voiddreams/pseuds/voiddreams
Summary: Crowley guards Aziraphale from the rain. There is cuddling.There is no plot. There is no angst. Because the  day I stop writing fluff is the day I die.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	Safe in Each Other's Arms

Aziraphale didn’t notice the rain until it was almost pouring.

It wasn’t strictly unusual for him not to notice things immediately, especially when he was absorbed in a book like he was. However, as he looked out at the pouring rain, he couldn’t help but notice that none of it was hitting him or the book, despite him being seated on an open park bench. In fact, the wood to his left was already soaked, although none of the water reached him.

He tilted his head back to see a dark, slightly snake-patterned umbrella and grinned, twisting to his left until he saw Crowley, come back from his excursion startling random park goers with his more reptilian form. He was leaning against the back of the park bench, holding the umbrella over the two of them. And, judging from the faint smell of sulfur over the rain, had used a minor miracle to keep the wetness on the benches from spreading to Aziraphale. “Took you long enough,” he said, smirking down at him.

“Well, in my  _ defense _ , I had a rather wonderful excuse not to notice anything was amiss,” he said, closing his book. Only then did he notice Crowley’s slight shiver. “Dearest, how long have you been standing there?”

“Nnnh. Not too long. Noticed the clouds coming up when I was coming back.”

“Well, I greatly appreciate it.” Aziraphale stood carefully, keeping himself and the book carefully under the umbrella as he moved around the arm of the bench and hooked an arm around Crowley’s. Crowley leaned into him slightly, pressing his chilled side against Aziraphale’s perpetual warmth. “Oh, my love,” Aziraphale said fondly. “You know, you could’ve just told me it was raining.”

“Didn’t want to disturb you,” he mumbled. “Looked like you were enjoying your book. Besides, just paying back the favor.”

Aziraphale smiled softly at the very old memory. “Well, consider us even now. How about we head back to the bookshop, put on something on your little telly, and relax for a little?”

Crowley smirked. “Advocating for Sloth now, angel?” Aziraphale batted his arm lightly, resisting the urge to chuckle.

“Certainly not. There is nothing sinful about taking a little bit of time for yourself, especially when the weather is so… disinclined for other activities.” He paused a beat, then added, “Of course, I could always work on my reshelving instead of joining you.”

Crowley’s grip on his arm tightened slightly as he grumbled something that sounded an awful lot like, “bloody angels not playing fair”.

“Could even open the shop, I suppose. Not many people walking around the streets with this much rain, but only She knows what could happen.”

“I get it already, angel,” he complained. They were approaching the bookshop now, and the rain still showed no signs of abating.

They quickly went into the building, Crowley throwing his coat on the rack and making a beeline for the backroom. Aziraphale followed a half-step behind.

Before long they were curled up on the couch together, a blanket - tartan, even with Crowley’s half-hearted complaint - wrapped around the two of them. Crowley was curled against Aziraphale’s chest, half asleep even with Golden Girls playing in the background. Aziraphale had considered continuing his book, but instead settled on threading his fingers through Crowley’s hair. It had grown significantly since the Apocalypse, down to his shoulders. Aziraphale had quietly rejoiced the first time he’d been able to do this, and the feeling of quiet wonder was still very much present.

And so an angel and a demon spent one of many long, rainy afternoons, simply enjoying each other’s presence until they both slipped into sleep, safe and secure in each other’s arms.


End file.
